


Size Matters

by LustreGuts



Category: Deathgarden (Video Game)
Genre: (announcer voice) THE FACES AROUND YOU CAN BE FRIENDS OR FOES: THAT DECISION IS YOURS ALONE, (no. no they aren't), Gen, this is so fucking stupid and yet. the best thing i've ever written lmao, very important moral lessons are learnt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22777438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LustreGuts/pseuds/LustreGuts
Summary: Switch insults Inked and gets more than she bargained for in return, to the delight of everyone involved.
Kudos: 2





	Size Matters

It's a slow day in the cafeteria. Switch preferred the busy days, when bustling crowds of Scavengers rush in and out, and there's not need to check the disposal bins because the litter is left strewn throughout the Scavenger's living quarters. There is a charm in the quieter and cleaner hours she has to admit, as she sits with some of the other Scavengers that she's come to associate with. She isn't about to go soft for any of them, because most of them are too idealistic for their own good and she's seen what happens to Scavengers who hope for too much from the Bloodharvest, but during moments of downtime it is still nice to have some friendly faces to talk with. Currently, they are eating dinner while comparing their assigned schedules for the upcoming week, trying to find the overlaps where they will be in the same trials together.

Sawbones is the lucky one; after consecutive weeks of daily or even twice-daily trials she has only two bookings for the whole week, spaced far apart from each other. Fog has inherited her misfortune at twice the strength, having managed to secure what could be a new record of seven separate trials over one 24-hour period, with many more filling out the rest of his week. Dash is currently in a trial, so his schedule is still unknown. Ghost had just escaped a trial as they began to socialise over food, but had chosen to go and rest in his cell. Switch's schedule is the standard affair she's come to expect, and she is happy to see it. Inked's schedule, however, seems to be the surprising one, because it follows a pattern that Inked has been suspecting - that she was given a slow start by the Complex system, with her trials gradually ramping up in frequency. Switch thinks this sounds like bullshit, because despite what the Complex staff claim she's only ever received schedules that look randomly generated, and it makes zero sense for the Complex to ever be intentionally generous to anyone.

"It's confirmation bias."

Inked looks up, still working through a mouthful of especially chewy food-grade NPI. She works quickly through it and swallows loudly, so she can argue, "It's not confirmation bias if it's true. It's just confirmation; It's evidence."

"It's evidence of something that you made up! You're just wasting even more of your time and energy." Switch's own printed food is in the form of some impressively nondescript gelatin, which tastes better after she pulls out a packet and sprinkles some contraband seasoning that won't be worth the effort of dismantling. She's been a prisoner long enough to recognise what kind of infractions the guards will actually notice or care about, and she no longer thinks twice about this.

Several heads turn, and Switch isn't sure why. She's offered to share this seasoning before and no one accepted, so she can't tell why it matters now. Fog is still eating his own fill of plain gelatin as he looks at her, but Sawbones has paused, holding an unfinished food bar with wide eyes. She looks concerned and uncomfortable. "Switch?" She starts to speak, when the rest of the table remains quiet, "what-"

"What do you mean by even more of my time and energy?" Inked has also stopped eating, who all eyes fall on, but Inked only regards Switch.

Switch groans. This wasn't how she wanted to have this conversation - she never want to have this conversation, end of - but it's too late to backtrack now. "Okay, listen. I've been honest with you guys because you're smart and capable, and have proven you can survive by yourselves. And you all know I've spent a lot of time in the Bloodharvest, these past years." No one interrupts her but she can feels the change in the air; it's one thing to dance around the facts of why their situation, to waste their time comparing the different trees in the woods, but pulling back to acknowledge the forest as a whole kills any chance of returning to more carefree conversation. Switch carries on, "You're all smart, but... you're hopeful, and not in a good way. The average person thinks that they're above average, and every single aspirant in the Bloodharvest thinks that they will make a difference. If that was true, there wouldn't be any blood or NPI to reclaim, would there? It's just how the world works."

Inked reclines back where she's sitting, placing her digital tablet with her schedule face down on the table and still staring at Switch as she speaks up. Switch isn't sure if Inked has blinked even once since she started making eye contact, with the intensity she's maintaining it. "Switch, you should get to the point. If you respect me, you will just say it."

Switch can't help but huff at the suggestion that she is explaining herself the incorrect way, but complies anyway. "Your tattoo research isn't worth it." She realises how bad this sounds, and tries to supplement her statement with assurance. "Look, don't... Look, Inked, you're an amazing person! You're smart, and strong, and pretty, and a whole bunch of other stuff that I'm sure everyone else spends all their time telling you about, but be realistic." Switch is also quick to add on, slightly sharper in tone than she intends for, "And remember you wanted me to tell you bluntly."

Inked is speechless. Somehow Switch doubts it was the compliments she peppered in. The entire table is quiet, and even Fog now has stopped eating in this choking atmosphere. A myriad of strong emotions are obvious on Inked's face, and she takes a slow, deep breath, and does so again, leaning forward over the table before she opens her mouth to talk. "Switch, I am a scientist from the ruins. Do you honestly think I have no understanding of what is realistic and what isn't?" Inked, to her credit, works very hard to be rational and calm in spite of the obvious emotion behind her words, as she continues to argue her case. "I didn't wake up one morning and grab a tattooing machine on a whim. I predicted well in advance, years before even my first attempt at inserting a biometric tattooing, that I would end up here in the Bloodharvest, and I was correct. My research is going to change the world for the better, for every scavenger. I am already living proof my methods work."

"Sure, you can say that, and what will happen when you step on the wrong explosive mine?" Switch asks, clapping her hands together and then pulling them apart as she answers, "You'll go flying in one direction and your legs will go flying in another! And then what? All that wasted ink, and time, and tech, lost and worthless in an instant, because you didn't invest it wisely. Your dismembered limbs will be reclaimed as raw material by some schmucks who won't even notice how they're decorated, and your fancy tech tats will have achieved nothing. You'd have been better off saving all that high-quality NPI for sustenance, or trading."

"I'm in the good habit of not jumping on random mines." Inked's tone is intensely lukewarm, in a way that implies she is working very hard to keep it at that level.

"No one is in the habit of jumping on random mines, doesn't stop them getting their legs blown clean off in the arena." After saying this, Switch punctuates herself by tapping on the table, not wavering from staring down the other woman, "And. Then. What."

Inked scowls. "I don't appreciate you making a mockery of me and my research, Switch. I thought we were friends."

"Whatever, fuck this," Switch has food still left to finish but she's done sitting here with the other Scavengers. Getting chummy doesn't mean she owes them anything, especially if they insist on being so naive. She stands up while she pulls her patchwork her mask back over her face. "I'm going. I'll see you all whenever." 

"What? No!" She actually flinches, startled by the force with which Inked stands up and slams her hands onto the table, which Switch doesn't see but hears as she walks away. "Don't just leave!"

She's leaving anyway. Switch might not be a free woman right now but they're both inmates here, and Inked has no control over her. Apparently no one informed Inked of this however, and this is one thing Inked refuses to assume from contextual clues. Inked tries to say her name again and Switch ignores her, keeping a brisk pace on the way to nowhere, anywhere else. Inked still follows her, unrelenting and still talking, and Switch breaks into a sprint. She hears Inked also start to run after a loud shout, but Switch speeds ahead until she feels her legs burn and slows back down- only to look back and see Inked still running full speed towards her. Inked wouldn't have had a chance of keeping up with her inside a trial, when Switch can trigger the nano-machines inside her bloodstream to flood her with energy and adrenaline at an unparalleled rate, but Switch has no way to activate these nano-machines while in the Complex, and Inked's tattoos evidently have no such restrictions in usage, still able to operate outside of the arena. Or maybe Inked was just that fit - Switch doesn't care which.

Someone shouts as they pass by, she ignores them, so does Inked. She runs at full speed again, but she can't sustain her sprint any longer. She still runs as Inked gains distance on her, closing the gap at a steady pace with her higher endurance while Switch falters. They burst into the locker room, Inked finally catching up to Switch and grabbing hold of the smaller woman's bandolier as she tries to flee, both of them crash down the shallow steps and sprawling onto the lobby floor. Switch can't wiggle out of Inked's grip during the tumble, and she finally comes to a stop with Inked sitting on top of her waist and pinning her down her skinny upper arms by her sides. That doesn't stop Switch from trying to pull away and escape, but after failing to run away from the tattooed woman Switch has absolutely no hope of winning a strength contest. 

"You're very heavy for someone whose supposed to be trim." Switch mumbles aloud, trying and failing to even move her arms up from the floor where they're both held.

"I'm not trim, I'm robust. Besides, muscle is heavier than fat," Inked tells Switch, and Switch could not care less about whatever words she wants to use for being bigger and brawnier. But Inked, even with all her grand altruistic aspirations, isn't above rubbing in her petty victory as she gives the muscles in Switch's arms a soft squeeze, taunting her, "and you don't have either. And now what, Switch? And now what? _And now what?_ "

"Hahaha." Switch says, voice dry and flat. "Cool. Hilarious. Now get off of me."

But Inked doesn't budge. Switch realises that Inked isn't wearing her mask when a look of hurt crosses her face, and clears away her temporary glee. "I told you not to leave, Switch. We need to talk about this."

"And I'm telling you to let me go and you won't, so I guess neither of us gets what we want." She sneers back. "I don't want to talk about it and you don't want to hear about it, so why bother? Stop holding me hostage over bullshit and go back to the others. You should fetch your mask before someone steals it, or it gets lost."

"...Alright."

Switch is surprised that changing Inked's mind was so easy, to the point where she is suspicious. These suspicions are confirmed as Inked bends down and wraps her arms around Switch before the bigger woman starts to stand herself up, still holding onto Switch. Switch is no stranger to being flung about, having been tossed around like a ragdoll by the hunters more times than she can count now, but this is the first time she's been physically picked up and then simply held in an unending hug, or been manhandled by a fellow Scavenger. Once Inked is ready she hoists Switch up into the air with a grunt, bracing her legs wide as she throws Switch over one shoulder. "Woah!" She gasps, as she feels the tattooed woman's shoulder land against her gut, as well as the arms pinning down her side and across the back of her legs. 

"Are you okay?" Inked is quick to ask, briefly concerned.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine?" Switch queries back, unsure of what to think about this development. Eventually, once it's clear that Inked has stopped moving her around, she starts to giggle, "Okay, this is funny... okay, it was funny, you can put me back down now." Her little laugh trails off, as it becomes clear that Inked isn't budging. "Inked?" But then Inked does start to move, and it isn't the movement Switch wanted; instead of putting her back down and apologising Inked starts to walk.

"No! Inked, put me down!" Switch protests, trying to pull away one of the arms holding her as she realises that she is being carried somewhere.

"Sorry, I can't hear you from all the way back there," Inked teases blithely as she strolls on through the corridor, and emerging back into the quiet hubbub of the cafeteria. Almost immediately Switch hears an ungodly cackle from somewhere in the room, as well as other following sounds of mirth and amusement once she and Inked have caught the attention of other Scavengers hanging about this space. Switch twists herself around and is able to catch sight of the table Inked is approaching, where they had both been sat moments earlier. Both Fog and Sawbones are both surprisingly slow to notice Inked and Switch's re-entry, having already continued to chat in low, casual tones, but Sawbones is the first to notice as they approach again. Switch can see the process of Sawbones going through stages of recognition, confusion, surprise and joy as Inked stops to stand at the table.

"Oh Lord," Sawbones is wearing a look of pure, unadulterated smugness that Switch didn't even know she was capable of, more than making up for Fog's lack of excitement. She looks Inked up and down, increasingly impressed as Inked remains standing with Switch's weight slung across her shoulder without any sign of tiring out yet. With a cheeky grin she quips, "So when do I get my turn?"

"You _want_ a turn?" Switch can't see Inked's face, but she can hear a coy giggle escape. This is something Switch can use to guile Inked into releasing her, she thinks, as as Inked chuckles, sounding slightly flustered. "I don't know if you've done anything to deserve this. I'm trying to prove a point to her."

"No, you should give Sawbones a ride instead." Switch agrees with a sly snicker, as she stops contorting to face them while they grin and smirk at her predicament, letting her sight fall back down. "She'd probably enjoy it far more than me, and she would love this view." 

"Excuse me?" Sawbones gasps, too shocked to even sound indignant, but it delights Switch when she doesn't even try and protest. What doesn't delight Switch is when, after a long stunned pause, Sawbones pipes up again in her sickeningly sweetest sugary drawl, speaking with the most overacted and inauthentic worry possible, "Oh, Aishwarya, sweetie? I just remembered, I forgot my vambrace. Since you're already standing, would you mind being a darling angel and fetching it for me?"

"Wh- You're not scheduled for a trial today!"

"I'm not," Sawbones answers, pretending to sound innocent, "But... what if I need it anyway? And you don't mind, do you Aishwarya? I've got your mask here, I'll keep it safe."

"Of course not, Aria. Do you need anything, Fog?"

"No. I'm good." He's still trying to eat, and seems uninterested in getting involved with the frivolities, but that's not good enough for Switch. Fog see's her glare and points out between a bite of food, "I'm not helping you. You saw my schedule, I've got bigger problems than saving you from talking shit. Next time run faster."

"Oh! Just... run faster! Naturally!" Switch spits back at him. "I didn't know we had TWO scientific geniuses here!"

Fog shrugs away her anger and continues to devote full attention to his meal as Inked turns and walks away, giving Switch easy view of his indifference and Sawbones' unashamed enjoyment, as well as the amusement of anyone other Scavenger who feels like jeering in the cafeteria. The corridors outside are still sparse and empty. Switch keeps trying to turn, push or pull away from Inked but nothing seems to be working. Switch wishes distantly that someone would come to her aid, but she doubts a stranger Scavenger will help her, and she knows definitively that the guards won't. She's seen the aftermath of some truly horrific fights and bloody attacks between Scavengers that didn't warrant staff intervention, so she doubts they will even notice a non-consensual piggyback ride in front of their eyes. If she wants to escape, she's going to have to do it alone. Unless...

"Good evening, Ghost!" Inked calls out, going out of her way to get his attention when she spots him heading through the hallways outside the cells, heading back to his room after a long shower.

"Oh, Aishwarya! Eveni- oh," Ghost sounds surprised, and Switch can imagine how that surprise is lighting up his face; If only she could turn around and actually see it. "Good evening to you... two, too?" Ghost's tone is uncertain and tentative, and Switch is relieved that, finally, someone sounds concerned about her. "Is Switch okay?"

"What, Switch?" Inked jostles the sack of a woman on her shoulder, casually making a display of her unforgiving stamina. "Yeah, she's doing amazing! We're going for a little walk together."

"She won't put me down!" Switch cries out, resuming her squirming as she pleads her case and implores him, "Look, Ghost, you know me, I know you, we've taken on hunters together! She might be muscled and buff as hell but there's two of us, we can take her!"

"Take her... to where?" Ghost asks.

"I'm going to Sawbones' cell. She forgot her vambrace."

"I don't know, Switch," Ghost says, doing his best to sound helpful as he points out, "it sounds like Inked doesn't need us to help take her anywhere."

Switch groans, and places her head in her hands. She's surrounded by traitors and wilful fools. She is going to die of embarrassment by the time Inked stops parading her around the Complex, and she refuses to make peace with this. And Ghost wasn't even at the table, he has no reason to believe that she deserves this! Not that she does deserve it, because she doesn't, but this is another reminder to Switch of how little the world cares about her or anyone else, and she'd made the mistake of letting her fate all into the hands of someone else... or more specifically, trapped in the arms of someone else. 

"Anyway, Ghost! I just remembered," Inked pipes up, with a renewed vigor that worries Switch, "You were consulting Andrus Quintero about ocular implants, correct?"

"Um, yes? I did," Ghost, to his credit, is not wholly malicious the way Inked has proven herself to be towards Switch's dignity, and sounds lost about her intentions. "Why?"

"It sure sounds," Inked says, her voice wavering with anticipation, "like a _visionary_ procedure."

Oh, no. No. Switch refuses to accept this is happening, because it isn't happening. "Fuck you," Switch growls, "fuck you, fuck me, fuck this, fuck everything, I hate everything, you cannot do this to me, and I swear, I am never lending you anything or risking my life for yours again." 

Ghost sighs and rolls his shoulders in an unenthusiastic shrug. "I'm not so sure. Quintero said it would be useful, but i just cannot... _see,_ the value in it."

"You can also go fuck yourself."

"Don't worry too much," Inked says, "I'm sure you won't regret it. After all... hindsight is always 20/20, if you know what I mean."

"AAAAAARGH!" Switch's impotent kicking and flailing renews, but it's still useless. She starts screaming, doing anything to alleviate her suffering and make those around her as embarrassed and miserable to be there as she is. "AAAAAAAAHHH!!"

"True. Maybe after the modification my foresight will be as clear as yours is!"

"Well, its been nice talking to you Ghost, but **I** ," Inked pauses, profoundly, long enough to make Switch consider violence, "need to be going. I'll _see_ you around, Ghost."

"I'll be _see_ ing you around too, Inked."

"YOU'VE USED THAT PUN THREE TIMES NOW," She shouts, " _AND IT'S NOT EVEN A PUN!!_ " Switch yells against the backdrop of her own powerlessness and despair. She feels hatred, and she envies the hunters who get to carry real weapons with them. "YOU'RE ALL IDIOTS!"

This is the first time in this whole conversation that Switch actually sees Ghost, who isn't currently wearing his mask is grinning madly. "Bye, Switch!" He waves her goodbye.

Switch makes a gesture back. It isn't a wave. Ghosts laughter haunts her as Inked walks on. She's still screaming bloody murder as she grows desperate, and scrabbles madly at Inked's sides, trying to dig her fingers in deep, but Inked's armoured vest was made to resist armed attacks, so a Scavenger's bare nails mean nothing. Inked chuckles loudly because she isn't even ticklish. Switch can feel tears of raw liquid fury forming in her eyes. She tries to twist around and away from Inked' grip, but her gut remains firmly planted against Inked's shoulder, trapped face down. Switch has the realisation that, if given the opportunity, she is not above biting Inked, but she can't figure out how to do so from her current position. She stops wasting her energy on howling as she doubles down on resisting, thrashing around as hard as she can. Inked veers sharply to the side after one particularly forceful kick, and has to stop walking as she grapples with the recycler, swaying about as she balances maintaining her hold on Switch with trying to keep the both of them upright. Once again, Inked's raw reserves of stamina hold out against Switch's burst of energetic resistance, and Switch's struggles dwindle down into insignificance. 

"Wow, you almost got away that time! You should have kept going," Inked says with infuriatingly earnest joy, as if Switch isn't panting and heaving for breath in exhaustion. But Inked isn't being condescending, as Switch can hear the other woman's heavy breathing. Switch savours this smallest of victories, before letting out a long, dejected moan between her gasps for air.

"This... is the worst day... of my entire life..." Switch rasps, falling entirely limp in the tattooed woman's unrelenting grip.

"Well, my day hasn't been good either." Inked says with a pointed edge, as she resumes walking, at a significantly slower and more laboured pace. "One of my friends insulted my entire life's work to my face."

"Hahah, wow, now that sounds like a shitty friend." Switch mutters, cracking a tired smile. Or maybe she's just cracking - she's not sure what the difference is after the torture she's endured.

"Does she?"

"...okay, look. Or- okay, maybe don't look, but listen." Switch takes Inked's compliant quietness as a sign to go ahead and speak. "I'm... sorruruh... I'm sssh.. suh soh... susuh ssush hss..." Inked doesn't laugh, and Switch can't blame her even as the she giggles at her own act. "I'm just playing with you! But, I'm sorry. And I mean it! I'm being serious now. I'm sorry, I was rude. I knew what I was going to say was terrible, and even once it was obvious you were unhappy I kept going anyway. What I said about your tattoos being a waste was inexcusable, and I'd hate someone if they treated what I care about how I treated something you care about."

"And you're not just saying that because I'm in the middle of demonstrating why you're wrong?" Inked has stopped walking now, listening closely.

"No, I'm not," Switch said, and she was being near entirely honest, "I... I hate doing this, I don't usually admit when I was wrong, but I wasn't just wrong, I was an asshole." And she adds conclusively, third time the charm: "I'm sorry."

Inked doesn't move for a long while, and Switch wonders if she just thinking or if she expects Switch to keep going, but eventually she does relent, shifting her grip on Switch. "I'm still upset with you, so don't push your luck," Inked warns her, with a gentle, good-natured edge, "but I accept your apology." Inked bends over as she loosens her grip, letting Switch drop onto her feet before she lets go completely. It's now that Switch actually feels her guilt, feeling undeserving of Inked's consideration - it would have hurt less if Inked had dumped her straight onto the metal floor and walked away without looking back. She disconnects her water bottle from the bag and lifts her mask partially up to take a swig, relishing in the feel of it while Inked dusts herself off and says, "Let's go back and see if the others have stolen our food yet."

"I thought you'd never ask." Switch responds, offering the taller woman her water bottle as they begin to walk together.

\--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

"I'm sorry, but pink isn't a real colour, and your arguments don't make sense." Ghost says. "End of. Nothing will change my mind on this, because it's the truth."

"This is ridiculous!" Switch shrieks at him in disbelief. It's a cold dawn in the Locker room, and it's too early in the morning for her to cope with this nonsense. "It's a colour! It's... a colour, that you can look at, with your eyes, and SEE!" She roars the last word. She cannot believe how worked up she is - she has never felt so close to the brink of madness, over something so insignificant yet so obvious.

"Except it isn't!" Ghost gestures wildly in exasperation, as he fruitlessly tries to explain his own insanity. "It exists, but it's not a real colour like blue is!"

"Are you colourblind or some shit? ...Oh my god, no way," Switch gasps in shock, both her own hands flying to her head, "have you been colourblind this whole time? Is that why you're going ahead with the ocular implants?"

"What? No! Of course I'm not!" Ghost objects, but that small, brief flicker of self-doubt still crosses his face, and Switch is prepared to dive in on this moment of weakness until she notices that their friendly debate is about to be interrupted by a third party. She looks over and has to double-take, because she can't believe the perfect sight being delivered to her.

"Good morning!" Inked greets them, and she isn't alone. Joining her is Dash, who is laid out across her shoulders and trapped in a fireman's carry.

"Inked, what the hell!" Dash cries out, "Stop! You're embarrassing me!" Dash begs of his merciless, entertained audience; an audience that Switch is a member of this time. An ingenious realisation hits Switch, of what she needs to do.

"Morning, Inked!" Switch rushes in to exclaims, she can't let Ghost steal this opportunity. It's her turn to have some fun. "Can you do me a favour?"

"A favour?" She can't see the tattooed woman's face, she's wearing her mask this time, yet she can visualise the thrilled grin perfectly as Switch steps in to spur her on. Switch can tell that Inked knows exactly where she is going with this.

"Can you go and pick up my mask for me? My new blue one. You know where my cell is, right? We're close neighbours."

"I think I remember where your room is," Inked hums thoughtfully for a moment, idly shifting her weight from one foot to the other while her captive remains steady in her grip. "It doesn't matter. I'm sure if I wander around long enough I'll eventually find it. I can pick your mask up without a problem."

"Swiiitch!" Dash whines in protest, squirming like a worm and just as pathetically, "You already have your mask! You're wearing TWO masks right now! Help me!"

"Yeah, but they're both the wrong colour. I changed my mind and I want my blue pair of masks now, " She leans over and softly elbow's Ghost in the side as she explains her sudden need to send Inked on a hike, "After all, me and Ghost were just talking about colours, and now I want to wear blue since it's a real colour."

Ghost makes a sound as he tries to speak but loses his composure before he can, breaking out into a laughing fit. Dash is not so amused by the in-joke. "You guys are dicks!" He shouts, as Inked ferries the angry boy away for his one-man voyage.

"Enjoy your walk!" Switch calls out to them. She's curious if Dash lost the marathon like she had, or if he had been a victim of an ambush after earning Inked's ire. It is while wondering about this that Switch realises not only that she doesn't even know what Dash has said or done to deserve this, but that she doesn't even care as she reflects on the singular, very important lesson she has gained; That it is always funnier when someone else is getting humiliated instead of you, so do everything you can to avoid being the victim and enjoy the schadenfreude at every opportunity. It's might not be the message Inked wanted to teach her, but it's a message that Switch is happy to have learnt.

**Author's Note:**

> i wish i was buff enough to carry switch around like an insolent sack of flour :(


End file.
